


Plum Silk

by drabbleandfluff



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Panty Kink, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drabbleandfluff/pseuds/drabbleandfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ikkaku discovers new things about Yumichika, and himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plum Silk

 

The first time he sees it, a swatch of dark purple… _what was that, silk?..._ Ikkaku was searching under the cushions of the living room sofa, looking for loose change for the bar that evening (so that he could afford a few drinks at happy hour with Renji and Hisagi). The soft material was shoved in deep under the cushions.  
  
Tugging it free from its confines, Ikkaku’s eyes widened as the nature of what was revealed to be an… uh, _undergarment_ , took shape. Holding the thin material daintily between the thumb and index fingers of both hands, the bald shinigami held the diaphanous silk up to eye level. A shrewd eye tried to determine _whose the fuck these were?!_ They seemed too large to be Hinamori’s, (not that he’d know)… and quite honestly, _too small_ to be Rangiku’s.  
  
So who the fuck left their panties at his house? Their silk and lace, bikini style, barely-a-slip-of-a-cut-of-material, plum colored panties?   
  
Ikkaku scratched his head.  
  
It was at that moment that Yumichika walked through the front door. The sight of the san-seki rubbing his smooth head with plum silk stopped the fashionable shinigami in his tracks.  
  
“Purple is definitely not your color, Ikkaku,” Yumichika pointed out dryly, “it picks up the ruddiness in your skin tone.”  
  
Ikkaku turned, dangling the crumpled silk from his index finger. More irritated than he had a right to be, and for a still unacknowledged reason, Ikkaku grumbled, “Whose the fuck are these, Yumichika?”

Upon seeing the slightly surprised look in the go-seki’s eyes, Ikkaku attempted to lighten his tone; he chuckled dryly, “You bringing home women when I’m out on real world missions?”  
  
Yumichika smiled blithely and brushed off the other’s concern with a dismissing wave of his hand, “Don’t be silly, Ikkaku. Although I did invite a few people over last week for a party that evolved into an entirely larger event… Not that I have to ask your permission or approval for those.” The brunet walked passed Ikkaku, to his own bedroom, “I’m sure whoever left those here was just too mortified to come back and claim them.”  
  
Ikkaku stared at the receding back of the black uniform as it left his sight. Yumichika was not coming clean; _he could tell_. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit, that there was something Yumichika was keeping from him. Ikkaku’s mouth opened to respond, but being at a loss as to what it was he _really_ wanted to say… he closed it instead. Shaking his head, he threw the panties back on the couch in disgust and left the apartment.

 

 

The second time he sees them, Ikkaku is pawing through Yumichika’s dresser drawers, looking for a clean belt for his hakama. The one he was currently wearing was, unfortunately, now covered with splotches of hot sauce. It helps him and his laundry load tremendously, Ikkaku thinks gratefully, that Yumichika keeps his clothes immaculate, and readily handy.  Quickly moving to seize a belt and _get the hell out of here_ before Yumichika returns home to find Ikkaku in his room, Madarame glimpses a flash of color in an otherwise black-and-white drawer.  
  
Giving into temptation, and not the voice stabbing him in his brain to _leave_. _Leave now_. Ikkaku reaches under the clean, folded hakama and pulls at the wisp of material that turns out to be, again, that same pair of plum panties he left on the couch a week ago.  
  
His fingers roll the fabric in his hand, wondrously cool and slinky soft; the silk caresses his skin. Ikkaku is shocked by the sheer number of nerve endings firing off in his palm. A compulsion he can’t name urges him to bring the panties to his nose. He inhales deeply, and a sharp punch of heat hits his belly, nice and low. Ikkaku groans softly.   
  
Voices outside the window break him out of his semi-trance. He can’t make out any of the words being said, but he recognizes Yumichika’s tenor. Panic forces him to shove the undergarment back into the drawer hastily, and he hurries back into his own room.

Closing the door behind him, Ikkaku slides down to the floor with his back against the door. His heart is beating faster, his mind is full of questions… why did Yumichika have those panties in his drawer? Who is he seeing?

And then his mind takes a giant leap… _are they his?_   
  
The last revelation causes the subtle twinge between Ikkaku’s legs to _throb_. Fuck. He’s never allowed his brain to even entertain the possibility of Yumichika in that way. He had always found his best friend attractive… _too attractive_. But there’s just been too much on the line between them as friends, as comrades; for him to fuck it up by making the wrong move… at least that’s what Ikkaku has always been trying to convince himself.  
  
Ikkaku’s hand moves down to cup his cock, he runs the heel of his palm down the length, curling his fingers around the shaft and stroking himself on the way up. He groans loudly in relief, the back of his head falling and slamming into the door, _fuuuck!_  
  
“Ikkaku?”  
  
Oh shit! He didn’t even hear them come in.  
  
He clears his throat before answering, “..uh, yeah. Back here,” and it still sounded a bit strained, “be out in a sec.” Cursing to himself, Ikkaku stands and wills his body to not betray him. Taking a deep breath, he opens the door and walks out.  
  
He can’t help the sinking feeling he gets in his gut when he sees it’s Rangiku with Yumichika, in his home.  
  
Yumichika shoots him a curious look; he’s probably the only person that can tell something is amiss with Ikkaku with one glance. “We’re heading over to meet Hisagi for happy hour, and dropped by to see if you were here and wanted to join us.”  
  
A tight smile pulls across Ikkaku’s face. The tiny window that had opened briefly in his mind, _the possibility_ … has just been slammed shut. The panties are hers. They had to be.

 _And I’m a fucked up fool._  
  
“Can’t. I’m on patrol in an hour.”  
  
“Aww…” Rangiku pouts, “we never get to see you anymore, Ikkaku.” She drapes her arm over Yumichika’s shoulder, leaning her strawberry blonde head against the brunet.   
  
Fuckin’ fine by me, Ikkaku thinks, if he has to watch _that_ all night.

 _When had this all start to bother him?_  
  
“I gotta go.” Ikkaku mutters, as he heads out the door.  
  
“Ikkaku?...”  
  
He hears the concern in Yumichika’s voice, and hesitates as the front door closes behind him and he’s standing outside. Sighing deeply, Ikkaku rubs at his head. With the weak afternoon sun shining too bright for his mood, Ikkaku heads out to the Eleventh Division taisha to check in.

 

 

Three weeks later, Ikkaku finds himself on patrol in the real world with this fellow Eleventh Division comrade. Their relationship is so strained by now, that although he still free-loads off Keigo and his sister for a place to stay, Yumichika does not.

He doesn’t ask Yumichika where he’s staying either.  
  
Still, Ikkaku can’t help but think about Yumichika. The brunet is never far from his thoughts, and he thinks he’s really messed things up; really close to doing it for good too, over something he hasn’t even told the other man about.  
  
He’s lost in thought as a powerful hollow appears behind him and catches him off guard. After a few distracted hits, Ikkaku gets slammed into the rooftop of a neighboring building, losing his grip on his zanpakuto in the process. Feeling stupid, he watches in disbelief as Yumichika materializes in front of him and dispatches of the hollow without so much as breaking a sweat.  
  
And if that doesn’t piss him the fuck off.  
  
“Fuck you, Yumichika. It wasn’t your fight,” he growls.  
  
Violet eyes peer backwards at Ikkaku briefly, but Yumichika doesn’t even bother to turn around to face him. Looking forward again, the brunet’s voice is a bit tired, if not resigned.  
  
“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, Ikkaku, but I am tired of waiting for you to work through it. Are you going to tell me soon?”  
  
“I didn’t know you were my shrink… ” Ikkaku responds bitterly.

His eyes betray him again by admiring the go-seki’s contoured back. They appraise the strong long lines--the lean shoulders, the slim waist. Ikkaku thinks Ayasegawa’s the only shinigami that can wear a shihakusho and make it look like a fine formal wear.  
  
That familiar heat starts to creep into his belly, again.   
  
“I thought I was your friend.”  
  
A spasm of pain crosses Ikkaku’s face. He’s fucking this friendship up, _he knows he is_ , but he doesn’t know what else to do, because really, what he _wants_ to do, is fuck his friend. Has been dreaming about it for the past four weeks. Almost every morning he wakes up with a boner that _fuckin hurts_ like nobody’s business, or he wakes stuck to his sheets. He’s never felt this… frustrated… this uncertain, about anything in his life.  
  
The silence stretches uncomfortably.

With a sigh, Yumichika walks forward to leave, a soft ‘click-click’ to his footsteps, “you know where to find me, Ikkaku.”  
  
Ikkaku’s brain slows down… no, it’s actually _time_ that slows down.  The soft noise of Yumichika’s footsteps catch his attention-- waraji do not make a sound. His eyes slowly travel down Yumichika’s legs to his feet, and he sees it. A pair of plum colored stilettos, strapped around slender ankles.  
  
And it’s as though Yumichika realizes his mistake at the exact same time. After two steps, he has stopped moving.  
  
“Yumichika…” Ikkaku’s throat has gone dry.  
  
Yumichika turns around fully, finally, tipping his chin up defiantly. He smirks acceptingly and replies, “I felt your reiastu spike and was already here before I realized I had forgotten… a few things,” he gestures down to his shoes. The brunet looks Ikkaku square in the eye when he continues, “This is who I am; what I like to wear, _sometimes_. Obviously you’ve realized it too and you can’t stand it. You can’t even bear to look at me, Ikkaku.” The violet eyes blaze at him, “You of all people, to turn your back on me.”  
  
Ikkaku’s eyes are wide. He thinks his mouth has fallen open too, but it doesn’t matter because the blood pounding in his ears drowns out all other senses. He’s got to be the biggest idiot in Soul Society, to do this to Yumichika, to make him feel like shit. Fuck.  He’d kick his own ass if he could.  
  
It’s like someone slaps him in the head; because he finally _moves_. In a half second, he has his hands fisted in Yumichika’s uniform, pushing him up against the brick wall of the building’s stairwell. His brain is blaring alarms and screaming at him, saying stupid shit like, _‘just because he dresses like this doesn’t mean he likes men’_ or _‘he_ _may like men, just not you, dumbass’_ or… _oh fuck-fuck-fuck-it!_  
  
Ikkaku crushes his mouth against Yumichika’s, lips devouring, tasting… trying to drown out the loud-mouthed asshole in his brain. The kiss is hard and messy, not at all what he’d think Yumichika would term ‘beautiful’… but Ikkaku thinks he’s probably only got this one chance, after fucking things up so royally.

So he goes in, pouring every feeling he hasn’t been able to give voice to into this kiss. His fear, his trepidation-- but most of all, his _want_ , his _need_ for Yumichika. 

Ikkaku runs his tongue over the hard edge of perfectly aligned white teeth, teasing the sensitive insides of soft lips. Sucking on the plump lower lip, he pulls it into his mouth and bites down softly. He hears a soft grunt and can’t tell if it came from his own throat or Yumichika’s. He pulls away to look into confused lavender eyes, and waits for the punch to his jaw. It never comes.  
  
“I can’t look at you, Yumichika…” Ikkaku replies roughly, breathlessly, “because lately, everytime I do… I just wanna bend you over and fuck you hard.”  
  
Ayasegawa’s eyes darken at those words, and a shiver runs up his body. Not one to back down, he replies, “and why haven’t you, Ikkaku? You know I won’t break,” his voice deep and velvet thick.  
  
Ikkaku pauses, and for the first time, is probably honest with both himself and Yumichika at the same time, “Because if I fuck this up, _I’d_ break…” he whispers, brows furrowing in realization. He brings his hand up and runs his fingertips along the edge of the brunet’s jaw line.  
  
Yumichika smiles at him, _really smiles at him_ , and Ikkaku thinks it is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.  
  
“You really are a stupid man,” Yumichika says before he leans up and runs his tongue over thin and sullen lips. “I’d never let you do something as ugly as that... We’ve been missing each other’s signals for awhile. Perhaps it’s time we made up for that.”  
  
The smile Ikkaku returns is both endearing and wicked.  
  
The hand at Yumichika’s jaw tilts his chin upward, and Ikkaku licks down the alabaster neck in one long swipe. He feels the pulse at Yumichika’s neck jump frantically, and Ikkaku attaches his mouth there to feel it flutter against his tongue.  
  
Ikkaku’s hands are busy at the ties to Yumichika’s uniform, and when the hakama drop to pool around four inch stiletto heels, Ikkaku’s eyes follow the falling cloth in hopes of seeing plum colored silk. He is not disappointed.  
  
Groaning as a wave of desire pummels through him, he drops down to his knees, large hands wrapping themselves around slender hips. His eyes take in their fill of creamy skin and lithe muscled thighs, but what really captures his attention are the silk panties and the way they seem to sinfully cup Yumichika’s cock.

“Ikkaku…” a soft whisper filled with longing falls upon his ears.  
  
Ikkaku leans in, pressing his nose right against the sensitive bulge, he inhales deeply, nuzzling and breathing into the smooth silk. “Oh fuck yes, _fuck_ … Yumichika,” he exhales hot breaths, rubbing his face against the panties, moaning softly at the way it glides across his skin; humming in appreciation as he feels the cock beneath his cheek start to fill.  
  
His own dick is _unbelievably_ hard, it twitches and jumps as he grinds his face into Yumichika’s rapidly hardening prick. He mouths at the purple silk, licking his way up to where the cock head has poked out past the lacy fringe. He runs the flat of his tongue over the slit, teasing under the crown with soft licks, he grins as he hears a drawn out moan from up above.   
  
The tips of five fingers fall upon his scalp; they trail across his skin delicately, and yet he can feel the power lying beneath the tapered digits.

And if Yumichika didn’t just put a little bit of reiatsu in his fingertips and _rub_ … Ikkaku feels his eyes roll into the back of his head in delirious pleasure.  
  
With a growl, Ikkaku yanks down on the panties, done with the pretenses, and simply opens wide and swallows Yumichika’s cock. He almost doesn’t hear the muffled cry from above as he sucks and licks; his hot mouth and slick tongue worshiping this pillar of heat and skin. He moans, because it’s good, _so fucking good_ … and he feels the first pulse quiver against his tongue. Ikkaku doubles his efforts, sucking hard, teasing with a slight graze of teeth, swirling and caressing with his tongue.

He pulls off and strokes Yumichika's dick with his hand, feeling it, _squeezing_ , then he swallows it all down again. Sucking, he feels it pulse again. Pulling back, his mouth is flooded with heat and salty come, sticky and pungent.  
  
Not swallowing, he spits it into his hand. With his other hand, he pulls quickly and desperately at his uniform and ties for relief. His restraint is at its near end, and although he’d like his first time with Yumichika not to be against a dirty wall in the real world, he’s way past caring.  He looks up to capture Yumichika’s eyes. 

“Yumichika…” he pants brokenly, “I need… _fuck_ , I have to…”

Violet eyes wrench themselves open and pin him with a burning gaze; Yumichika’s voice honey thick and throaty, “Do it, Ikkaku…” 

Slicking his cock with the cooling come, Ikkaku hisses at his own touch. As he stands, Ikkaku hooks the brunet’s knee over his arm, raising the long slender leg and stiletto slings with them.

Greedily, he attaches himself to lips that eagerly open for him. His tongue is wild and dominating, taking ownership of that exquisite mouth; the groan that rumbles up his chest is aching.

Ikkaku’s come soaked fingers work quickly to prepare his partner; and a few moments later, he’s lining himself up and sliding into hot, tight heat.   
  
Ikkaku almost lets out a near shout as that slick heat pulls him in. He leans his head upon Yumichika’s shoulder for a moment, heaving gasping breaths onto flushed suffused skin. He licks at the perspiration pooling above the smooth collar bone, nipping at the hollow behind his ear; waiting for Yumichika to adjust. 

And when Ikkaku starts to move, it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced. He can feel every muscle contracting, feel every drop of sweat as it runs down his skin.  He feels the sharp scrape of fingernails on his back; the grip of Yumichika’s hand around his neck.  _Oh fuck is it good_.

 _Too damn good_. The hot rush of heat starts swirling around his spine, drawing him ever higher, and higher… until finally it slams into him like a crushing wave. With a choked cry Ikkaku comes, too helpless to do anything but to ride it out, shuddering uncontrollably while cradling Yumichika to his hips.  
  
  
  
After more than a few minutes of catching their breaths, it is Yumichika that moves first, unhooking his legs from where they had been wrapped around Ikkaku’s waist. Slowly, Ikkaku lets go of his grip, already noticing the bruising skin. Yumichika moves to stand on shaky legs.  
  
Ikkaku leans down to capture Yumichika’s lips; slowly this time, tenderly.  
  
“You okay?” he whispers gruffly, _but fuck did he look good_ … sweat drenched, pink skinned, and totally debauched-- Ikkaku thinks he could get _very_ used to this sight.  
  
“I said I don’t break easy, Ikkaku. You of all people should know that,” Yumichika replies, and smiles slyly, “but let’s take this show indoors… Karakura Town has way too many humans that can see us in this form. If they want another show, cash needs to be paid up front.”  
  
Ikkaku laughs at that, and reaches down to pick up Yumichika’s clothes, to help him get dressed again. Both men look at the sorry state of the plum panties clutched in Ikkaku’s hand.   
  
“Don’t worry,” Ikkaku smiles smugly, “I’ll get you some more.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for springkink community on lj
> 
> Prompt:  
> Bleach, Ikkaku/Yumichika: crossdressing - Pretty princess Yumichika can still kick ass in heels. When he's not breaking Ikkaku's mind.
> 
> Originally written February 2010


End file.
